


Love and Its Byproducts

by SyntaxSynodic



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M, cuddling and breakfast, teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntaxSynodic/pseuds/SyntaxSynodic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos and Cecil drabbles. c:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Its Byproducts

I know Cecil.

I know Cecil.

But there are still certain recondite pieces of information that quite thoroughly elude me. For instance, I know he has a horrible fear of mirrors. However, I don’t know why. Whenever I ask, he always avoids my gaze, mentions his mother, and starts convulsing until I drop it and hold him.

Weird. But then again, what about this town isn’t? Clocks aren’t real, time holds false value (But then, time has been argued to be a concept), and we’re receiving seismic earthquakes every day without feeling them. Of course, as a scientist, I took all these facts with skepticism and a piercing curiosity.

At any rate, Cecil. Cecil is a thing that exists. Cecil is a fun, new and precious thing. And Cecil is also a thing I think I understand, but I really don’t. One thing this town has taught me? Not knowing is not always bad. In fact, it may be wonderful. I foolishly thought that because I was an educated person, I knew the basis of all things. But I don’t. I understand almost nothing. Human understanding is like a fleeting memory here in Night Vale.

I digress. Out of all the new and unpredictable things here, Cecil is the best of them. When I first met him, I was a bit taken aback by how… bright he was. Not bright as in smart, although he is very intelligent. Bright as in luminous. But not literally. He is passionate and excitable and easily distracted. Bright. It made me smile. It also made me feel very, very awkward.

I’ve never really been a social person. While I can socialize and communicate, my family used to tell me I seemed stiff or too professional. To which I would always reply: “Sociology makes sense in theory, but not in action. At least not to me.”

After a while, it became obvious Cecil was very uncomfortable around me. You know the kind. Elevated blood rate, loss of connection from the brain to the mouth, and weird misunderstandings and utterances about hair or teeth. Or misunderstandings about mirrors. Cecil being uncomfortable made me uncomfortable, so I reacted by doing what usually works: Being stoic and distant.

That did not work AT ALL on Cecil. At first, I wasn’t particularly interested in getting to know him- until I caught a glimpse of “the brightness”. After a while, I warmed up to him; His unique violet eyes, the steady thrum of his voice. As I became more comfortable with him, I started to notice the way he looked. As in, really noticed. When you first observe someone, you take note of some of their features. Glasses, freckles, bright mauve hair, things like that. To speculate further, what I mean to say is he started to catch my eye more. Things like the steep curve of his jaw and the gentle point of his chin. The way his high cheek bones gave him pleasantly hollow cheeks. His somehow natural looking tattoos that curved up the exposed sections of his arms and neck. (Which left me to wonder where the ink ended.) Cute purple square lenses that had cuter, more purple eyes beneath them. And the endearing way he combed his half dyed hair. Kind of like a slick backed style combined with an elegant combover that tended to get messier as the day progressed. When I first met him, his hair was long and pale, and tied back haphazardly into a messy bun. Since then, he’s severed most of it and dyed some sections black. It suits him very well. After Cecil cut his hair, I noticed a tiny sliver piercing that dotted his left helix. I knew both of his ears were pierced, and the right side of his bottom lip was pierced as well, but that small, delicate piercing discombobulated me for some reason.  There is still more about this person I don’t know about, I remember thinking.

But since we officially became partners, things are significantly less uncomfortable. We’re in that awkward stage of “You don’t like that food? You like that show? Can I sleep at your place tonight? Can I touch you here? You can do what with your… third eye??? ” While Cecil isn’t my first partner, he’s certainly the most communicative and acceptive. When we go out to dinner or a movie, I don’t feel quite so out of place; Cecil is popular in Night Vale and he fits right in. I’m glad someone understood just what was going on around here. It made the transition from a place that had a strong scientific base to a place that defied basic physics whenever it felt like it a lot smoother than it would have been. Given, the transition was still not a smooth one.

Reminiscing aside, I’d say I’m pretty used to Night Vale by now. As used to it as one from the outside could be. Night Vale may be impossible, difficult to describe,  and dangerous, but I’ve come to see and feel it as home. I’ve come to feel it as home because I have a big, crazy, second family here. I have a crazy Grandma Josie, who is a bit smaller and more delicate looking than my Abuela, but both are just as firm set in their beliefs. I have a sister named Dana. Wispy voiced, red haired Dana, who is very different than my outgoing older sister Aurora. There is also Steve, who is just as annoying and cocky as my oldest brother, Emilio. And, to top it all off, I have my Cecil, who is incomparable to anyone else I’ve ever met.

Tall, lanky, and beautiful Cecil is my sanity in this insane place. Cecil is my shoulder to rest on. Which, on this particularly chilly morning, I am doing. I lay on Cecil’s chest and listen to the calm beating of his heart, and I feel the gentle swell of his thoracic cavity as he inhales and exhales. His long arms are wrapped around me, and the sheets cocooning us rustle in the slight breeze from the open window. He is asleep, peaceful, for now. I absently glance at the bedside clock (which is not real). It proclaims 5:23 with its loud, glowing colour. I think of the watch I gave Cecil, and wonder what its argument to the alarm clock’s loud proclamation would be. Night Vale is always a few hours deviant from the actual time, according to the time zone Night Vale is supposed to reside in.(Which is Pacific) I was most likely awake right now for that very reason. I’ve been here for nearly two years, but I still manage to feel jetlagged every now and then, somehow. Sighing tiredly, I reach up and card my fingers through Cecil’s soft hair. His hair is very pleasant and silky feeling and I find myself smiling. I often smile around Cecil. It is confusing and wonderful. My other hand is satisfyingly warm, and I look down to find that I’ve intertwined my fingers with Cecil’s. I blink. Hm. Like magnets. Fascinating.

I feel Cecil’s chin on the top of my head; he’s moved.

“Are you awake?” I ask.

“I am not.” He replies, his voice hoarse and rumbly. I feel it in my skin.

“Would you like me to make some coffee?” I ask, and I feel the warmth of his palm as he squeezes my hand.

“Mnn,” he replies sleepily, he’s heard my words, but not processed them.

The bedroom door begins to rattle, and Cecil starts a bit, opening his brilliant amethystine eyes. Khoshekh scratches and wails at the door.

“You’re okay, baby boy,” Cecil coos calmly, rubbing his temple. He knows I hate it when he lets Khoshekh on the bed. I can never get all the hair out of the sheets, which leads to sleeplessness and too many sneezes. Cecil whines as Khoshekh peels wood off of the door with his claws and spines.

“Khoshekh, be nice to your Daddys’ door,” Cecil warns, and the black cat answers with a resounding thump. I assume he’s trying to knock the door down. I sigh and roll gently off of Cecil and the bed. I turn the doorknob, and instantly Mr. Allergen pushes his way through, and limps over to the bed.

“Grrrraaaooowwwww,” he growls grumpily, and Cecil looks down at him, eyebrows raised.

“You know why, dear.”

“GGRRRRAAAAAOOOWWWW!” Khoshekh screeches. Cecil reaches down with his long, intricately inked arms and scratches behind his ears, careful to avoid his spines. Khoskekh’s fluffy tail whips in annoyance and he points his narrowed gaze at me, as if to say “This is all your fault, he let me up in the bed before your caramel ass started sleeping here.”

I reach down and pet him apologetically, and he seems to forgive me, if only by a little bit. Cecil is stroking Khoshekh’s long black fur with one hand, and rubbing his eyes with the palm of his other hand.

“You’re really, uhm,” Ipause looking for the right word. Adorable? Cute? Charming? Delightful? Pretty? “Captivating,” I decide, and nod. Cecil laughs, and the sound is deep and smooth as Mamá’s Flan cakes.

“You’re pretty ‘captivating’ yourself, querido,” He replies, emphasizing querido. He started calling me that after Abuela called one day;I guess I surprised him by rattling off in a language he wasn’t too familiar with, so he studied it a bit.

“Yo sé no sabes mucho Español, pero creo que su linda,” I reply, looking down in embarrassment.

“Goodness, it’s very disorienting when you do that,” Cecil smiles, propping his hand on his chin as he lay on his side. “I can’t tell what you’re saying, but I know it’s something cute, so I don’t know whether to be confused or feel complimented.” he continued, smiling earnestly.

“It was pretty, uh, cute,” I reply, smiling too hard. Gosh, he makes my face hurt sometimes. Cecil beckons me over, most likely grinning at the inevitable blush I could feel in my cheeks. I make my way over, and he takes hold of my arm, his pale skin warm from sleep. He pulls gently, and I find my face very close to his. Our noses touch, a-and my face feels hot. His cheeks are pink, and he looks pointedly at my lips, his long pale lashes resting upon his high cheeks.

Khoshekh chooses at that exact moment to jump up on Cecil. Not only is it surprising, his bad leg makes it so that he couldn’t quite stick the landing, and he falls on my foot, spines first.

Cecil must see the pained look on my face, because he makes a face too. Khoshekh, thankfully, just lay still.

“Oh dear…” Cecil stands, then leans down. His gentle hands remove the cat from my foot. Luckily, Khoshekh’s spines are small (and Cecil recently took him to get them dulled), and am not bleeding. Khoshekh, however, is still a bit shocked.

“Silly boy,” Cecil smiles, holding the black fluff like a baby. He strokes Khoshekh’s soft underbelly, and the cat replies with a few blinks of his yellow eyes. I sit on the bed and rub my foot, a bit grumpy. Cecil leans down and kisses my forehead, the warmth of his lips somehow make me feel better.

“I’m not used to living with two boys yet,” He laughs. “Especially not two boys that fight over me. You’re just a jealous little boy, aren’t you, Khoshekh?” he coos to the cat, his bass voice shooting up an interval. Khoshekh finally moves, and he wiggles so that Cecil will let him down. Cecil complies, and Khoshekh tears from the room, chasing after something invisible.

“Carlos isn’t as jealous as Khoshekh, is he?” Cecil asks, and leans down to press his forehead against mine.

“I don’t think so,” I reply, finding it suddenly hard to think.

“Is Carlos the dominant male?” Cecil asks, cocking his head ever so slightly.

“P-probably not,” I smile nervously. Cecil steals a quick kiss from my lips, then my cheek, and then the top of my head.

“Don’t act so nervous honey, it’s breaking my heart,” Cecil drawls, then saunters over to the closet door. I bite my lower lip and examine my hands.

“Do you want breakfast?” I ask. At least my voice is no longer shaky.

“I would love breakfast, my perfectly imperfect Carlos,” comes Cecil’s muffled reply.

 

“We’re studying the house that doesn’t exist today,” I told Cecil, who was munching on a gluten free pancake. His hair was up in the usual messy combover, the pale fading to deep ebony tips. He’d put a bit of eyeshadow and eyeliner on, and his usually pale lashes were black. Pretty impressive for no mirror. I wonder if he’d used his phone.

“It seems like it exists, like it's just right there when you look at it, and it's between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But, it does not exist.” I added, then took a bite of the eggs Cecil made.

“Just be careful,” Cecil cautions, slipping some eggs to Khoshekh under the table. (He thinks I don’t notice.)

“Aw, Cecil, don’t do that,” I admonish him gently. “He bites my fingers because of that.”

Cecil giggles.

“I’m pretty sure he bites your fingers because you’ve stolen all of his Daddy’s attention,” Cecil remarks, leaning down to set Khosh in his lap. I roll my eyes and smile. Cecil sips on his sweetened coffee, and the purple NVCR design glints in the light.

“CHHHEEW!” I sneeze, and lay my head on my arm. Cecil passes the Claritin, and sets Khoshekh on the floor.

“Alright, out with you now, dear.” He says, walking to the door. Khoshekh follows reluctantly, standing undecidedly in the doorway, front paws on the steps down from the apartment, back paws on the tile of the kitchen floor. Cecil gently pushes his butt, and Khoshekh gets the idea. I see him curl up on the wooden slats as Cecil closes the door.

“I guess I’m lucky you value me over your cat,” I smile, then take the claritin with a gulp of water. Cecil runs his fingers through the long part of his pale hair, then adjusts his glasses.

“Yes, well,” he walks over and leans down to put his head on my shoulder and wrap his arms around my chest. “I value both of you very much, but I know when to separate two people. Or cats. Or entities. You know.” I nodded. “I learned it in boy scouts while we were earning our ‘Avoiding Climatic Situations’ badge.”

“Oh,” I reply. Man, this town is weird. Cecil kisses my cheek, then goes to the sink to rinse his mug out.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asks, shaking the water off of his hands.

“Well, we should probably eat here tonight, considering all the food I have at my house is either a snack or meat, and I know how you feel about eating meat.”

“I bought some tofu a few days ago,” Cecil replies. “I could fry some, and you could help me make the sauce for them.” I nod.

“That sounds wonderful, belleza.” I reply, and walk over to rinse out my own mug.

“I really should have taken Spanish instead of Modified Sumerian,” He replies. “Belleza,” he shapes his mouth around the world, as if tasting it.

“It means beautiful,” I reply, and I lean up to give him a kiss. He laughs and inclines his head toward me to make it a bit easier; he’s easily a head taller than me.

“Are you walking today?” He asks.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Good, I’ll walk with you.” He smiles, and intertwines his fingers with mine. I glance at the clock on the north wall.

“Well then, we better head out now.” The clock (which was not real) stated 7:17. Cecil slings his satchel over his shoulder, then opens a can of cat food for Khoshekh. He sets it down on the porch as we leave. Then, hand in hand, we walk toward the very loud sunrise.


End file.
